The Bet
by Teardrops 13
Summary: Marcus choked for a brief second and attempted to cover himself with a washcloth. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded. “Getting my answer,” Wood replied calmly.


**Disclaimer: Hm, last time I checked I didn't have loads of money just pouring out of my ears, so I would only have to assume the men in white were right and that I'm not J.K. Rowling. Which, I guess, also means I don't own anything here except the plot. Aw.**

**A/N: This is my very first attempt at an Oliver/Marcus pairing, so please review and tell me what you think. (; **

**A/N: If you guys want, I'll write a sequel. But it's completely up to you. (:**

The Bet

OoO

Marcus Flint awoke early on Saturday morning. The Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Quidditch match was at three today, and two of Marcus's star players were in the infirmary. He needed time to clear his head before the match, so he dressed and walked down to the Quidditch Pitch.

When he got there, however, he noticed that somebody had already beaten him there.

Wood.

Marcus swore silently to himself, but got his broom anyway. Wood was not going to keep him from thinking. No fucking way.

He mounted and took off, slowly gliding around the stands. He had just managed to drift off into a peaceful bliss like state when Wood's voice shouted over at him.

Damn that fucking bastard.

"Trying to think of ways you and your team of pussies can lose to us, _again_?" Wood called over, emphasizing 'again'.

Marcus looked over at Wood. He shouldn't even bother answering that imbecile, but he did anyway.

"Actually, I was trying to get some damn peace before we whip your sorry ass later," he called back. Wood flew closer so they didn't have to shout.

Marcus noticed the cologne Wood was wearing. It smelled nice. Really nice. He shook his head to clear it of any fantasy that included Wood. That would be wrong. Just plain wrong. And he'd be shunned from his house. And beaten senseless.

"Peace? In this God forsaken place? You'd be more likely to find the key to the fucking universe," Wood laughed. It wasn't a happy laugh though. More like a bitter laugh. But what would perfect little schoolboy Wood have to be bitter about?

"Yeah, well I was doing a pretty good job of it until you interrupted me," Marcus retorted.

"I don't think fantasizing about what girl you're going to get to give you a pity shag later counts as finding peace," Wood smirked.

"You might want to do your homework before trying to insult me, Wood," Marcus smirked back. "It just so happens that girls aren't really my type." Of course, it occurred to Marcus a second later that telling that to Wood was probably the stupidest thing for him to do.

"Oh really?" Wood's eyebrows shot up. "I never would have thought of you as a 'from the back' kind of guy." He gave a short laugh. "So you a top or a bottom?"

"Yes, really. And it's none of your damn business," Marcus hissed, turning and flying toward the locker room to hide the sudden blush creeping up his neck.

"Well, I'll make you a bet," Wood offered, flying up beside Marcus.

"And what do you have to offer that I would possibly want?" Marcus inquired.

"Now that," Wood said in a low tone as they landed, "I would only reveal if I lost." The coy smirk playing on his lips caused Marcus to be rather interested in what Wood was going to offer.

"And if I lose?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, then you'd have to give me something," Wood answered matter-of-factly.

"Well, thanks for pointing that out, Captain Fucking Obvious," Marcus rolled his eyes. "What exactly would you want?"

"An answer," Wood answered with a glint in his eyes.

Marcus gave the Scot a questioning look. "An answer to what, exactly?"

"To any question I decide to ask," Wood responded.

"Sounds easy enough. What are we betting on?" Marcus asked.

"Who will win the match," Wood replied.

"Fine," Marcus agreed.

"So you're taking Gryffindor?" Wood smirked.

"Hell no," Marcus laughed. "I wouldn't take your group of sissies if my life depended on it."

"We've got Potter. Potter always catches the snitch. You're setting yourself up to lose," Wood warned.

"Yeah, well, we'll see about that, now won't we?" Marcus smirked before he broke away from Wood to enter the Slytherin locker rooms. He put his broom away and headed back inside the school/

OoOoO

Potter was being carried away by his team with loud cheering and whooping from the bloody Gryffindors. Marcus wouldn't have been that disappointed if this were a normal match. They'd only loss by five points with the final score being 250 – 245. But this wasn't a normal day.

Marcus took his sweet time circling the pitch a few times before finally heading to the showers. By time he got there, his team had already left. He undressed quickly and left his robes on one of the benches while he headed to the farthest shower from the door. He turned the water down as cold as it would go. His teammates always made fun of him for taking a cold shower, but it calmed him down.

He had been soaking under the water for about twenty minutes before he heard the footsteps. He didn't pay them much attention until he turned around to soak his back for the umpteenth time and he opened his eyes to see a rather amused Oliver Wood staring back at him.

Marcus choked for a brief second and attempted to cover himself with a washcloth.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" Marcus demanded.

"Getting my answer," Wood replied calmly. Marcus grew self-conscious as Wood looked him up and down.

"Well ask the damn question and leave so I can get on with my shower," Marcus ordered, growing more embarrassed by the second.

Wood gave a little laugh. "You're a little self-conscious, aren't you?" The question was obviously rhetorical, but Marcus rolled his eyes and answered anyway.

"Well, if you had some guy staring at your prick, you'd be a little self-conscious, too."

"You're doing too good a job at covering up for me to be staring at your prick, Flint," Wood replied, his eyes flicking up to look Marcus in the eye. "Though I'm sure it'd be a nice sight."

Marcus swallowed hard, not knowing if he'd actually heard Wood correctly.

"W-What?" he choked out.

"Nothing," Wood said dismissively. "Though I might repeat it, depending on your answer to my question."

"Then ask the fucking question," Marcus commanded.

"Well, you remember this morning when you told me that, oh how'd you put it, 'girls aren't really your type'?" Wood asked, awaiting Marcus's answer before he continued. A nod was all he needed. "It made me remember something. I've been looking for a decent Top for months now. My last one was caught by his girlfriend, and well, I wasn't into three-ways. But, of course, I wasn't going to just submit to anyone. It had to be someone incredibly sexy, powerful, and," Wood paused, lowering his voice to a silky tone, "Tasty." He smirked coyly. "So my question, Flint," he began in a seductive tone, leaning against the shower doorframe with his arms crossed in front of his chest, "Are you a decent Top?"

Marcus wasn't sure he'd understood what exactly just happened. His train of thought had crashed and burned as soon as he heard Wood's admission of being gay. Then again, his train may have stopped, but his 'friend' was rising steadily with every sultry word that left Wood's mouth.

"I'm way better than decent," Marcus finally answered, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Cocky, aren't we?" Wood teased, raising an eyebrow.

"Why don't you decide?" Marcus challenged.

And that was all it took for Wood to disrobe immediately. Marcus found his eyes wandering to the lower regions of Wood's body, feeling a twitch of approval from his groin.

"Like what you see?" Wood laughed.

Without thinking or shifting his gaze, Marcus nodded.

Wood closed the gap between them and pushed Marcus into the shower wall. With one arm on either side of him, boxing Marcus in, Wood bit his bottom lip.

"Rather dominant for a Bottom, don't you think?" Marcus teased breathily, finally dropping the washcloth.

"Not really," was Wood's response before he smashed their lips together in a hungry kiss.

Marcus dominated the kiss and decided to exert his strength over the keeper. Their positions were reversed within a second.

Marcus could feel Wood smirk into the kiss. He moved from Wood's now swollen lips to his neck. He left quite a bruise before carefully continuing down his torso. He bit here, sucked there, playfully flicked his tongue everywhere else. He could feel Wood squirm, which only furthered his pleasure.

Finally, Marcus reached Wood's swollen and leaking member, already on his knees. He began kissing and licking everywhere except the pleading cock, causing Wood to whimper.

"Need…you…now!" Wood panted.

Marcus smirked as he took the head of Wood's prick in his mouth. He flicked his tongue lightly over the leaking tip, eliciting a loud, animalistic growl to escape Wood's throat. He began bucking his hips, trying to force more of himself into Marcus's mouth, but Marcus placed firm hands on Wood's hips to hold him still.

He waited until he heard more whimpering before abruptly swallowing the whole of Wood's cock. Wood screamed out at the suddenness. Marcus began sucking as hard as he could while letting his tongue teasingly explore the entire shaft. He held one hand up to Wood's mouth, indicating for him to suck his fingers. Wood greedily complied. Once Marcus decided they were wet enough, he removed his fingers and wrapped his arm around Wood's back, searching until he found the puckered entrance he'd been looking for. He inserted one finger, curling and uncurling, causing Wood to groan. After a while he inserted another digit, then another, stretching Wood to his maximum.

When Marcus could feel Wood about to come, he took him out of his mouth and turned his body over so his back was to him. Marcus positioned himself and slammed into Wood without warning, causing the keeper to arch his back and shriek in pain. Marcus didn't move for a minute, allowing Wood to adjust. Then he began pumping in and out in a steady rhythm.

"Faster," Wood moaned, and Marcus complied. To get a better angle, he lowered them to the ground and threw Wood's legs over his shoulders. He slammed back into the keeper, eliciting a throat-wrenching moan from the beautiful tan man beneath him. Marcus smirked as he continued his thrusting and Wood got the rhythm down, pushing back in time with each thrust.

Marcus could feel himself close to the edge, so he grabbed Wood's prick and started stroking in time to his thrusts. A glass-shattering groan was the only warning he had before warm liquid shot out and soaked his hand. Wood's muscles tightening around his cock was all it took before he spilled his seed and filled Wood.

Marcus collapsed on top of Wood, too exhausted to move. The cold water hammering down on them felt fantastic on their overheated bodies.

"So was I good enough for you?" Marcus breathed.

"Much better than good. You were brilliant," Wood smiled.


End file.
